The Fallen
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #72 Spock had declined to participate in the launching of Enterprise B, but Jim Kirk goes ahead...with devastating results for family and friends. (This story also features Guinan from ST:TNG.)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

"Oh, Daddy!" Tru's eyes widened with wonder at the sight of Jim Kirk in his Starfleet uniform. She ran over and touched the maroon fabric of his jacket reverently.

What was it, he wondered, about women and uniforms? Even a seven-year-old female like his daughter fell under the spell. But Antonia was not nearly as impressed. She smelled of her oil paints as she planted a quick goodbye kiss on his lips.

"Now, don't go getting any ideas," she warned. "Your starship days are over. Remember?"

Though he rejected any notion of returning to active duty, the thought of boarding the _Enterprise B_ for its christening made his heart beat faster. "It's just for the launching," he assured her. "A little Saturday jaunt around the Solar System. They insisted that I attend. It makes for good press."

"You big ham," she said dryly.

He gave her an innocent look. "Who, me?" Starting for the door, he added, "Now don't go jumping to conclusions if I'm late. After all, there's the banquet." Exchanging a quick hug with Tru, he told her, "Mind your mother."

As he walked out into the yard, Lame Wolf waved to him from the paddock. Jim waved back, then turned toward the porch where Antonia and Tru stood watching.

Tru waved with both hands. "Bye, Daddy!"

"Enjoy yourself," Antonia said, barely smiling, "but not _too_ much."

He knew that she meant the banquet liquor, and felt a twinge of annoyance. Tapping the reactivated com badge on his uniform, he called for transport. A beam settled over him and his family faded from view…

A moment later he stepped from a transporter booth at Starbase Phoenix in Arizona. Captain Aaron Pascal came forward to meet him.

"Jim," Pascal said.

"Aaron."

Pascal's marriage to T'Beth had resulted in enough socialization to put them on a first name basis, but there was still a bit of tension between them. Considering that Jim and T'Beth had shared romantic feelings in the past, it was only to be expected. Nevertheless, they had decided to meet here and face the onslaught of reporters together.

Aaron waved him over to the Security Desk for in-processing. The little gesture irked Jim. He was quite capable of finding his own way and conducting his own business. All too well, he remembered their chance meeting at the old San Francisco starbase following the Big Quake, and the way Aaron had taken control of the situation, felling an uncooperative desk clerk with a well-executed Vulcan nerve pinch. _A nerve pinch!_ And that Airbike ride to Spock's damaged house? The fellow was bright, smooth and inventive. There was no denying that he had made T'Beth a good husband. Still, Jim was irked.

In a moment they were cleared to beam up. They stood side by side on the locus pads, and Jim took a deep breath before the beam caught him. He knew what was coming.

The transporter wave subsided and there was no chance to savor the starship atmosphere. A score of light beams found his eyes, a gaggle of reporters rushed forward, their questions overlapping as they thrust handheld cameras in his face.

"Captain Kirk…Admiral…so you and Starfleet have…how does it feel…what do you think…don't you wish…"

Jim fended them off with an upraised hand and self-deprecating smile. "Ladies…gentlemen."

They fell silent, cameras poised in midair.

As he cleared his throat, a wicked idea came to mind. "I feel…privileged to come aboard…especially in the company of this fine man." His hand settled on his startled companion's shoulder. "Captain Aaron Pascal, Chief of Starfleet Research and Development. He practically masterminded the design of this ship. It's a fascinating tale. I'm sure he'll be glad to tell you all about it."

Jim's strategy to sic them on Pascal failed. The press remained stubbornly clustered around him while Aaron slipped off to Engineering, unimpeded.

oooo

Tru lay on her back in a meadow, enjoying the warm spring sunshine as she gazed at the sky. It made her feel strange and lonely, knowing that her father was up there. A puffy cloud floated in the blue. If she stood on it, could she reach him? Could she reach all the way into space and touch Daddy?

"Tru!" Mama's voice drifted through the trees at the north edge of the meadow. The mares grazing with their foals lifted their heads, ears pricked toward the sound. Tru pictured her mother standing by the stable, worried.

"Elena True! Young lady, where are you?" Mama was angry now.

With a sigh, Tru got up. She ran through the thick grass, slipped beneath an energy fence, and sped along the wooded trail that led home. As she burst into the clearing, Mama was waiting for her, and she did not look pleased.

Out of breath, Tru said, "I was just over in the meadow."

Mama's frown deepened. "How was I to know? Tru, I've told you over and over—I won't have you just taking off whenever you feel like it. Now stay with Lame Wolf or come in the house. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama," Tru answered respectfully, but deep down she was simmering.

Lame Wolf watched from the paddock. The young Shoshone's face looked impassive, but his dark eyes were sympathetic. Tru walked over to him as Mama headed back in to her artwork. Lame Wolf was training one of last year's colts, a gray Appaloosa sired by Daddy's prize stallion, Warcloud. The horse was strong and handsome, like Daddy himself.

"I like Daddy better than Mama," she fumed.

Lame Wolf spoke without looking at her. "She loves you with a mother's love. She wants to keep you from harm."

Tru didn't want to hear it. She said, "I'm going inside."

Across the yard, she stopped at the pen where she kept her pet ducks, and they mobbed her, looking for treats. She dug into her pocket and tossed them a few crumbs saved from her muffin at breakfast. Then she went into the house.

As she came through the door, she could hear Mama on the phone. Standing very still, she listened. Mama was talking to Grandma Cordova about Daddy. She was always so worried that Daddy would go "running off into space". "Like Tru," Mama was complaining, "always on the lookout for some kind of adventure. Why, last month he went orbital skydiving! He could have been killed!"

Tru felt a surge of anger. She was proud to be fearless like her father. Sure, he could be strict, but he was fun, too. Daddy would never leave them, not even for a starship!

Not waiting to hear more, she slipped back out the door and sneaked her way around the yard, into the tack room. In a moment, Shiloh's saddle and bridle were in her arms and she was on her way back to the meadow. There, she whistled for her pony and Shiloh trotted over, eager for a ride.

oooo

With a sigh of relief, Jim thought, _At last…familiar faces!_

Montgomery Scott and Pavel Chekov moved in beside him, and amid a clamor of reporters, they were escorted to the bridge. Pavel seemed to be enjoying himself, but Scotty rolled his eyes as if to say, _Heaven help us._

They entered a lift, accompanied by a half dozen reporters who—strangely enough—turned to face the doors and assumed a courteous elevator silence. But the instant the doors opened, the privileged members of the press renewed the fight for Jim's attention. Ignoring them for now, he stepped onto the bridge of the newest _Enterprise_ and paused to admire it.

Captain John Harriman hurried over and introduced himself. Referring to his three guests as "living legends", he proudly let Jim know that he had read about Captain Kirk's exploits in grade school. Privately, Jim wondered how long Harriman had been out of that school. The guy looked too young to command an air tug. Moving on, Jim met Hikaru Sulu's daughter. A few years from now, Tru would be just as lovely. His little girl, all grown up—he really didn't want to think about that.

Launch time neared. Jim settled into a chair between Pavel and Scotty, and the reporters finally left him.

Jim leaned toward Scotty and said low, "Sulu. I can't get over it. When did he have time for a family? I had to wait until I retired."

"Aye," Scotty replied. "And how is that daughter of yours. Elena?"

"Elena True. Smart as a whip. Real Starfleet material."

Pavel's eyes twinkled. "So, Keptin, you're raising kids and horses now?"

"Kirks and Appaloosas," Jim smiled.

Harriman walked up. "Captain Kirk. Will you give the order to get under way?"

The press rushed forward, their cameras extended to capture the historic moment.

Jim shook his head. "Oh, no…no."

Harriman insisted, so feeling rather like a museum piece, Jim slowly rose to his feet. The reporters seemed to be holding their collective breaths. Every eye was on him. There was no avoiding it.

With a shrug he said, "Take us out."

As he sank back into his seat, Pavel remarked, "Well said, Keptin."

"Brought a tear to my eye," Scotty declared, straight-faced.

oooo

Tru was high on the east ridge trail when she remembered what Daddy had said. _Mind your mother._ Her conscience began to smart. Of course, she hadn't promised anything, but he would never accept that as an excuse. There would be trouble when she got home.

Suddenly Tru wished that she had not disobeyed her mother. Looking across a little valley, she could see the mountain where Spock lived with his family. She was a long way out. Even if she started back right now, there was no way to reach the ranch before they missed her.

Shiloh shifted his footing as she checked the sky. Storm clouds were piling up fast. A cool breeze blew a lock of strawberry blonde hair into her eyes. With a shiver, she brushed it away. Better head for home; better head for home now.

oooo

Jim thoroughly enjoyed the tour of the ship. By the time he returned to the bridge, the _Enterprise_ was well on her way.

"We just cleared the asteroid belt," Harriman told him with a smile.

The words were barely out of the captain's mouth when an alarm sounded from the communications board.

"Sir," reported the young woman on station, "we're receiving a distress call from the _Liku_ —a ship transporting refugees to Earth." She channeled the transmission to the bridge. The _Liku's_ captain sounded desperate. An unknown force was tearing at his ship and another in the convoy.

Jim found himself coming out of his chair. He sat down.

Harriman looked indecisive. "We're in no condition to mount a rescue. Contact other vessels in the area."

The communications officer quickly complied. She turned to her captain. "Sir…we're the only ship in range."

Jim rose again, his eyes hard on Harriman.

The captain told him, "We don't even have a full crew on board." Then he stopped wavering and issued the only possible order. "Helm, plot an intercept course. Full impulse power."

With his heart pounding, Jim sank back into his seat.

Scott murmured, "Is there somethin' wrong with yere chair?"

A writhing ribbon of energy appeared on the main view screen. Jim watched it flail at the two helpless ships as a steady, horrifying report streamed in from the _Liku_. They could not hold out much longer.

Rising, he stepped toward the captain and said, "Tractor beams."

Harriman was clearly frustrated. "The tractor beams won't be installed until Tuesday."

Jim thought fast. "Try venting plasma to disrupt the energy."

Harriman gave the word, but the plasma had no effect. Before their eyes, one of the ships collapsed, causing a brilliant explosion.

Scott had moved to an unmanned station. Sadly he reported, "Two hundred sixty-five dead. The _Liku's_ hull integrity is at fifteen percent."

Jim focused on Harriman. "Close to transporter range."

Once more, Harriman followed his advice. The _Enterprise_ changed position.

"Sir," an ensign reported, "I'm having trouble locking onto them."

Scott said, "Life signs fading in and out."

Onscreen, the _Liku_ disintegrated. Jim gave Scott a hopeful look.

The engineer's voice was heavy with disappointment. "Forty-seven out of one hundred fifty."

Abruptly the deck wrenched. Jim grabbed for a railing, and the buffeting intensified. "Report!" he shouted. _Old habit?_ Perhaps…but he knew exactly what he was doing, which was more than he could say for young Captain Harriman.

A woman replied, "We're caught in the gravimetric field emanating from the trailing edge of the ribbon!"

"Hull integrity at eighty-two percent," Scott warned.

The continuous jolting threatened Jim's precarious balance. He could only imagine the stress it was placing on the ship's structure. They had to break free! _If only Spock was here, blast him…_

A possible solution flashed into his mind. "An antimatter discharge directly ahead might disrupt the field long enough for us to break away. Photon torpedoes!" He did not wait for a response from Harriman. "Load torpedo bays! Prepare to fire…"

Harriman quietly broke in. "Captain, we don't have any torpedoes."

"Hull integrity at forty percent…"

With a stab of annoyance, Jim said, "Let me guess. Tuesday."

Scott turned from his station. "It may be possible to simulate a torpedo blast using a resonance burst from the main deflector disk."

 _Brilliant._

Jim said, "I think Pascal is down there."

"Aha!" Scott tried to get through to Engineering, and slapped the board in frustration. "The damn intercom's out!"

A sick feeling stirred in the pit of Jim's stomach. He refused to acknowledge it. After all, they were still in one piece…still alive…and he had been in tighter scrapes.

Harriman met his eyes and headed for the lift. "The con is yours."

Jim worked his way over to the center seat and dropped into it. The brand-new leather seemed to welcome him. Then he snapped out of it. "Wait!"

Captain Harriman paused by the lift.

Jim vacated the command chair and headed toward him. "Your place is on the bridge of your ship. I'll take care of it. Scotty, keep things together until I get back."

oooo

The storm was moving in fast. A few fat drops of rain spattered Tru as she urged her pony down the mountain. Rumbles of thunder made her uneasy.

"Hurry up, Shiloh!" she said.

They came off the trail and galloped across a meadow, toward the shelter of the tall trees. A bolt sizzled from the base of a cloud. Shiloh spooked, reared up, and his foreleg dropped into a hole. The crash of thunder masked an even more terrible sound. Shiloh went down hard, and Tru tumbled into the grass. Shaken, she lay still, wondering if lightening had struck them. Then she saw her pony struggling to rise, saw the bone protruding.

"No!" she cried.

oooo

Jim felt the adrenaline surging. As he rushed toward Engineering, the years seemed to slip away, and he felt almost young again. The jolting of the ship slammed him against bulkheads, but he scarcely noticed the pain. Racing through the corridors, down ladders, dodging steam bursts, he hung on for dear life.

He arrived at Engineering deck fifteen. He had studied the specs, and smoothly lifted a damping module. Everything was depending on him. _Think man, think._ Moving over, he opened a control panel, exposing row upon row of glowing blue circuit blocks. _I can do this. A resonance burst. Child's play._ Tru's image loomed into his thoughts, side by side with Antonia. _Forget the damn banquet. Let me finish this up and I'll be home in time for dinner._

The ship lurched. Swiftly Jim reconfigured the circuits, pulling blocks and moving them until he was satisfied. Then he tapped his com badge and said, "Kirk here."

By some miracle, Scott answered. "I don't know how much longer I can hold it together…"

Jim slipped the damping module into its new position. "That's it…let's go!"

He heard Scott's voice. "Activate main deflector…" And then, "We're breakin' free!"

With a thrill of triumph, Jim raised his fist. "Yes!"

The Engineering deck groaned ominously. A sudden shift in air pressure stabbed at his ears, and his smile faded.

A fierce wind struck. As he grabbed for the railing, he glance down into the lower level and saw stars. His eyes widened…

oooo

Tears coursed down Tru's face as she hugged her pony's neck. "Shiloh, don't die," she begged. "It's all my fault; I should've listened to Mama."

A pellet of ice hit the grass beside her. All at once, the heavens opened and pea-sized hail pounded down. The pony's eyes were white-rimmed from pain and fear. Tru didn't want to leave him, but she had to act fast. She had to get help before Shiloh went into shock.

Loosening the saddle's girth strap, she promised, "I'll be back, Shiloh. Hold on."

One last hug, and she was off running.

oooo

Antonia was nearly finished painting when a cloud slid over the sun and the loft dimmed. Thunder rumbled in the mountains. Suddenly she felt cold. Dropping her brush in a can of turpentine, she hung up her smock and headed downstairs. As she reached the living room, Lame Wolf was coming in the front door. Alone.

"Where's Tru?" she asked him.

"She came inside hours ago."

 _Inside? The house had been dead silent._ Standing at the base of the staircase, Antonia called to her daughter, but there was no answer. With a sigh, she mounted the stairs and entered Tru's bedroom. A caged bird blinked at her from its perch. Jim had given Tru the little Denevan parrot last Christmas, and Tru liked to carry it around on her finger. But the girl was nowhere in sight. Together with Lame Wolf, Antonia searched every corner of the house and headed for the outbuildings.

Lame Wolf came out of the tack room. "Shiloh's saddle is missing," he said in the reluctant tone he always used when Tru was sure to be punished.

The thunder was moving closer and the wind was picking up.

"That girl!" Antonia fumed. "Today of all days, with her father gone!"

"I'll find her," Lame Wolf volunteered.

Before Antonia could reply, two sparkling columns of energy formed near the house. She could make out the maroon Starfleet uniform jackets. _Good, Jim was home early and had brought one of his friends along. He could handle his wayward daughter._

The figures coalesced into a pair of officers, a man and a woman. Both strangers. The brown-skinned woman took the lead as they approached Antonia. There was a paper in her hand and tears in her eyes.

"Mrs. Antonia Kirk?" she asked.

Antonia's heart began to thud. Somehow she nodded, telling herself, _They're probably just looking for Jim. A social call._

"My name is Nyota Uhura." Her voice was sweet and melodic. "I was privileged to serve under Captain Kirk aboard the _Enterprise_."

Antonia forced a smile. "Jim's not here. He won't be back until…"

A tear rolled down Uhura's cheek. Her lips trembled. Softly she said, "There's been an accident. I regret to inform you…"

Antonia interrupted. "Jim's hurt. He's gotten himself hurt, hasn't he?"

She heard Lame Wolf moving in beside her, and reached for his hand. It felt warm and strong and alive.

Uhura began again, her dark eyes pained. "Out past the asteroid belt, the _Enterprise_ became trapped in an energy ribbon. The heroic actions of Captain Kirk saved the ship. However…I regret to inform you that…"

Uhura faded from view. Antonia's knees were buckling. She felt herself sinking toward darkness, but there was no way to escape the dreadful words.

"…Captain James T. Kirk has died."

oooo

It was not logical. Such a deep bond of friendship between Vulcans was rare, and even rarer when there was a human involved. But Spock knew the depths of his bond to Jim Kirk. He should have sensed Jim passing at the very moment of death. Therefore, he questioned the accuracy of the first phone call.

Spock summoned T'Naisa and they sat down to watch the news. The screen was awash in conflicting bulletins and conjecture.

The phone chimed again.

Keeping his eyes on the screen, Spock put a hand phone to his ear. Out of long Starfleet habit, he answered, "Spock here."

T'Beth's voice burst from the phone. "Dad!" She rarely called him that. "Dad, it's Aaron…he's been injured. They're bringing him into SMC Phoenix."

Spock's chest cinched tight. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know. There was some kind of trouble aboard the _Enterprise_ …" Her words choked off. "Father. Is Jim really dead?"

Spock hesitated to reply. "The reports are unclear…" T'Naisa put an arm around him and he could feel her body trembling. He shuddered once, then imposed a measure of calm on himself as he told T'Beth, "Please keep me informed."

The instant he closed the connection, the phone chimed again.

"Spock here." He recognized the woman's voice immediately, and repressed a second shudder as he acknowledge her. "Yes, Uhura."

"Spock." She sounded very relieved. "I'm over at Jim Kirk's ranch. I think you and your wife had better come over here."

oooo

Tru's legs ached as she jogged down the trail, but she forced them to keep moving. In her mind's eye she saw Shiloh lying helpless in the meadow, depending on her for his life. And it was all her fault.

"I'm sorry," she said aloud, breathless from so much running. "Please God, don't let him die!"

The trail took a downward turn. She picked up speed. Careening around a corner, she nearly bumped into a horse and rider.

Relief flooded her. "Lame Wolf! You have to help me—Shiloh broke a leg!"

Seated atop Warrior, Lame Wolf stared hard at her. "Tru, you need to come home."

"But Shiloh…" She pointed back up the trail.

Lame Wolf's jaw clenched. "You need to come home _now_. We can send help from there." He offered his hand.

Relenting, Tru climbed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Warrior pivoted, and they took off.

After a while Tru said, "I guess Mama's pretty mad."

Lame Wolf was silent. It seemed to Tru that he was angry, too. Even though it was too early, she asked anyway. "Is Daddy home yet?"

"No," Lame Wolf answered.

They passed through the final stretch of woods, and the house came into view. Tru's mouth opened in amazement. A tangle of skimmers and ground cars filled the yard. Some she recognized, but others were new to her. What was going on?

A sickening thought occurred to her. "Is all this because of me?"

Lame Wolf turned in the saddle and looked at her sadly. "No, little True Friend, it is not because of you."

Relieved, Tru hopped down. "Come on, hurry. We have to tell them about Shiloh."

Lame Wolf dismounted and tied Warrior's reins to the porch rail. Then he reached for her hand and they entered the house together.

oooo

"Room seven," said the harried receptionist.

Cleared for entry, T'Beth picked her way through a jumble of grav-stretchers and portable equipment. The emergency department was in a state of organized chaos, with still more injured on the way. Room seven held a series of treatment cubicles. She poked her head inside, and caught a nauseating whiff of charred flesh.

Gathering her courage, she ventured into the room and searched for her husband. Back in a quiet corner, she found Aaron lying on a gurney with his eyes closed. One side of his bearded face looked battered.

"Aaron." She took his hand and pressed it to her lips. "Darling, I'm here."

His undamaged eye opened. Softly he said, " _Amoureaux_ …"

A sob escaped her.

"Don't cry," he said with a weak smile. "I'm alright. Just my shoulder…and a couple of ribs."

Stroking his straight brown hair, she asked, "What in the world happened?"

"I was in the main Engineering control room. The ship began to lurch. Communications went out, and I headed up to the bridge. I thought I saw Jim Kirk on a ladder and called out, but he didn't seem to hear me. The next thing I remember…decompression…it threw me against a bulkhead. I figured I was dead, but then the emergency shield cycled on." He paused, knowing the pain his next words might inflict. "Jim…did he make it?"

oooo

Just inside the door, Tru stopped and tightened her grip on Lame Wolf's hand. A bad feeling came over her as she looked at all the people gathered in the living room. Even Father O'Day was there from Our Lady of Victory Church in Pinehaven. She had seen all these faces before, but never like this, so solemn and silent as they turned toward her. Tru's eyes briefly settled on Spock. The Vulcan sat near the 3-dimensional chessboard where he shared games with her father. His wife T'Naisa had pulled up a chair close beside him and was resting her head on his shoulder. Grandma Cordova looked as if she had been crying, and so did Aunt Pilar.

Mama was nowhere in sight.

 _They know,_ Tru thought. _They must already know about Shiloh._

Words burst from her. "It's all my fault!"

T'Naisa raised her head.

Grandma said, "Poor little thing. It's not your fault, _cara_. You had nothing to do with it."

"Yes, I did," Tru insisted. "I was riding him hard. I shouldn't have sneaked out, but now Shiloh needs help. His leg is broken bad."

Grandma frowned. "Shiloh? Your pony?"

 _Maybe they didn't know, after all._ "He's way out in a meadow. We have to call a vet. Where's Mama? We can't wait for Daddy. Shiloh needs help now."

Aunt Pilar broke into sobs and her husband comforted her. T'Naisa was in tears, too. For a moment, no one in the room said anything.

Spock quietly consulted with his wife and stood up. He said, "Tru, I will take you in my skimmer. We'll find your pony and get him the help he needs."

oooo

As Spock piloted the skimmer, he thought with pity of Antonia and her extended family. He knew what it was like to be paralyzed with grief. Though his own heart felt heavy, he was functioning. He welcomed the opportunity to be doing something productive, but as the minutes passed, he began to realize that he had placed himself in a very uncomfortable position.

Tru broke the silence in the cockpit. "What's going on, Uncle Spock? Why is everyone at my house? Why are people crying?"

Spock tensed. _What was he to say?_

They passed over a wooded area, into a series of meadows. The sun had slipped behind the trees, casting long shadows over the land.

Hoping to distract the child, he said, "We are approaching the area now. Keep a close watch."

She stared out the window and pointed east. "Go that way," she directed. He banked. "There! I think I see him!"

A sensor readout on the dash picked up an isolated life form. Spock dropped altitude and made a slow pass over a black and white object.

"It's him!" Tru cried, bouncing with impatience. "Oh, hurry up!"

Spock settled the skimmer into the wet grass. Tru threw open the door and ran to her pony. Spock called a local veterinarian, then joined her.

"Help is coming," he said.

Tru knelt with her arms around Shiloh's neck. The pony's breathing was fast and shallow, its eyes half-closed. Spock looked at the animal's gruesome injury and experienced a twinge of nausea. This was not something that could be fixed in the field. It occurred to him that the pony might actually die, and it could not come at a worse time.

The veterinarian beamed in. After a quick examination, he took Spock aside and asked whether he should treat the pony or euthanize it.

"You must save him," Spock said adamantly, "whatever the cost."

The doctor looked at Tru and nodded.

Soon Spock and Tru stood alone in the field while the last of the storm rumbled in the eastern mountains. Twilight was descending.

Abruptly Tru reached over and crushed him in a hug. "Thank-you, Uncle Spock, thank-you! Daddy will pay you back."

Something inside him twisted painfully. Gazing down at her reddish hair, he began to stroke it. He could no longer maintain the charade. Perhaps it was not his place, but honesty and compassion compelled him to tell Jim's daughter the truth, however personally difficult.

Quietly he said, "Your father did a brave thing today."

Tru tipped her head and looked up at him. "He did? Daddy's always brave, isn't he?"

"Yes."

She stepped away. "Oh, tell me! What did he do?"

Spock cleared his throat. "The _Enterprise_ was in grave danger…trapped…about to disintegrate. All by himself, he went down to Engineering to try and free the ship."

"Did he?" Her eyes shone with excitement. He had seen that same look before, in Jim's eyes. "Did he free the ship? All by himself?"

Spock nodded and swallowed hard. He felt his control slipping, but there was no way to stop now that he had committed himself. "Yes, Tru. He freed the ship…but there was a great deal of damage…and…and not everyone came back."

He watched as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself and closed her eyes. It was an odd behavior that he had witnessed before. Tru called it "capturing the moment", but this time tears squeezed out and dripped down her cheeks. And he understood what she was trying to capture—the last moment of believing that her father would come home.

With her eyes still firmly shut, she asked, "Daddy's not coming back, is he?"

Spock's throat ached. He drew a deep breath and said it. "No. He's not."

Her face crumpled. Her head bowed. Her hands balled into fists. Wailing with grief, she began to flail at him.

There was only one way to stop her. Dropping to one knee, Spock gathered Jim's daughter in his arms and the two of them wept together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Antonia did not have the comfort of a body to bury, but even so, there were funerals—two of them. A private Mass at her parish church, attended by family and close friends. And later, the Starfleet affair in Phoenix, where the public gathered to pay tribute to their fallen hero. There, she received a military decoration on Jim's behalf. She took it home and set it on his side of the dresser. Then she settled into a bedroom chair and did not leave the room.

All the company had gone, except for her sister Amelia, who kept the house running and brought her food on a tray. But Antonia was not able to eat more than a bite or two. She could not even summon the strength to pray.

Tru came and went. It hurt just to look at her, she was so much like her father.

One day the girl said, "Spock cried. Did you know that?"

Antonia turned to her. "Vulcans don't cry."

 _"He_ did. When he told me that Daddy died. I started to cry and he cried, too."

Antonia remembered that Spock had come to her the day after she got the news. Tautly controlled, he had apologized for taking it upon himself to tell Tru that her father was gone.

"They were good friends," she told Tru now. "More like brothers." That's exactly what she had said to Spock that day. His apology had touched her and she had also said, _I'm glad you were the one to tell her…and I'm sure you handled it well._

Amelia needed to return to her own family, and the following afternoon, Antonia dressed and left the bedroom. The house felt cold and cavernous without Jim. She stepped out on the porch and stared at the big stable—the new one Jim had built to house his growing herd of Appaloosas. Lame Wolf was working in the yard. He saw her and came over.

"Auntie," he said, as was his custom. He had always called Jim "Uncle"—just "Uncle". And Jim had come to love Lame Wolf like a son, but the boy was barely sixteen—a high school kid—too young for the responsibility of running a horse ranch.

Antonia told him, "Sell the horses."

oooo

James burst into the seminary office where Spock was finishing up the day's business.

"James," Spock chided, "you must knock first. I might have been occupied with a student."

"Sorry," James said in a rush, "but Father, you have to go talk with Aunt Toni. She told Lame Wolf to sell the Appaloosas—all of them!"

"They are her horses," Spock pointed out. "She has a right to sell them."

" _No_ ," James said emphatically, "they're Uncle Jim's horses."

Spock saw tears welling in his son's eyes, and chose his words carefully. "I know you were very fond of Jim; we all were. But now that he's gone, all the work on the ranch has fallen to Lame Wolf. It is too much for one teenage boy."

"But that's just it," James argued. "I'll help him. Those horses were as much his, as Jim's. They worked together like partners. Lame Wolf even shared in the profits."

Spock pushed back from his desk. He could not deny the truth in what James was saying. It was because of Lame Wolf that Jim had added to his breeding stock. Nevertheless…"Your offer of help is generous, but impractical. You are attending school. You have responsibilities here, as well. You cannot be running back and forth to the ranch every day."

James just looked at him, his dark eyes steady, his expression unyielding. Spock sensed what was coming and in that difficult moment realized how much he had come to depend upon this particular son. He had just lost Jim. Must he now give up James, as well?

Predictably, James said, "There's a simple solution. I'll move in with them."

Spock rose to his feet and issued a firm _"No."_

James stood his ground. "I'm not a child. In a few days, I'll be seventeen. Let this be my birthday present. I can move in with them and take the livestock with me—all except for the burro, of course. Tess loves Poncho."

Spock studied his son's face and saw a ghostly image of himself—youthful, earnest, determined to leave for Starfleet over the objection of his father. It was not a scene that he wished to replay with his own offspring. Arguing with James would only damage their relationship, and Jim's ranch was not so very far away, after all.

He asked, "What makes you think Antonia would agree to such an arrangement? Or T'Naisa, for that matter?"

James had his response ready. "I already talked to T'Naisa. She's not happy, but she understands. And Aunt Toni? Well, something tells me she might listen to you."

oooo

Shiloh was as good as new, but Tru had not ridden him since he came back from the vet. She liked to hitch him to the porch rail and brush him until his coat gleamed. She was busy grooming him when Spock and Jamie arrived in a groundcar. Jamie was at the controls. He got out and went to the barn, looking for Lame Wolf, but Spock came over to the porch.

"Hello Tru," he said to her.

She showed him the scar on her pony's leg. "See? Even the swelling is gone. I have to be careful with him, though."

"Yes," he replied, "I am sure that you do. Is your mother in the loft?"

The question pained Tru. "Mama never paints anymore. She just sits around."

Spock's brown eyes studied her. "And how are you?"

She did not know how to answer. There were no words to describe the aching, empty space inside her. The place that had belonged to Daddy was now full of fear. Picking up the brush, she passed it over Shiloh again and again. She was too scared to ride him—scared that he might get hurt like before. Or maybe next time _she_ would get hurt, or even dead like her father. More and more, she just stayed in her room where she felt safe, like the pretty little bird Daddy had given her—the bird in the cage.

"Tru." Spock's voice was kind. "Will you please tell your mother that I'm here? That I wish to speak to her?"

Tru opened the door and shouted inside. "Mama! Uncle Spock is coming in to talk to you!"

Then she went back to her pony.

Antonia did not want to see anyone, but it was too late. She heard Spock's footsteps and looked up from the chair where she sat in a dusty corner of the living room. Wearing casual clothes, he stopped and noted the general disorder. His eyes came to rest on the game table where the chess set used to be.

"I couldn't stand looking at the thing," she said. Lifting her wineglass to her lips, she took a swallow. "What do you want?" The words sounded harsh even to her ears. She had not really meant to be rude.

Spock looked at her, one slanted brow raised. His gaze passed to her glass and the decanter on the nearby bar.

"May I?" he asked.

The request took her by surprise. _Spock…drink liquor?_ Shaken out of her torpor, she said, "By all means. Help yourself."

She watched him pour a little wine into a long-stemmed glass. He took a sip and actually seemed to savor it.

Antonia laughed aloud—a short, humorless sound. "What are you doing?"

He glanced at her, then swallowed more of the wine before clearing a chair for himself. Sitting, he stared at his glass and said, "My sympathies are with you. I know what it is to lose a spouse…unexpectedly."

Antonia had not realized that she was angry until the fury boiled over. She set down her glass so hard that it broke, spilling wine all over the side table. "Oh, no you don't!" she snapped. "You may have lost a wife…and a daughter…but you're half Vulcan…and you're a man. How can you possibly know what I'm feeling?"

His eyes remained focused on his wine. Quietly he said, "Lame Wolf doesn't want to sell the horses. He managed the operation with Jim. My son James wants to move in and help. He feels that between the two of them, they can do it."

For the first time, he looked directly into Antonia's eyes, and she saw that he was carrying his own share of pain. "Just now," he continued, "you are distraught and angry that Jim is gone. Do not let that anger drive you into some rash decision that you will later regret. James truly wants to help. Why not give him and Lame Wolf a chance?" He paused. "Antonia, try to remember. You are not alone. There is One who…"

"Don't preach at me," she warned.

The Vulcan's gaze went to a crucifix on the wall. Without another word, he set down his glass and left.

Alone, Antonia stared at the wounded figure on the cross. _Not alone?_ Then why did she feel so desolate and frightened? _Lord, where were you when Jim needed help? Where are you now?_ Deep in her heart a light flickered, but then the darkness closed back in, as cold and bleak as outer space.

oooo

It had become a weekly routine. Every Saturday afternoon, Spock arrived at the ranch with T'Naisa and Tess in tow. There would be some visiting, along with a bit of cleaning sneaked in as unobtrusively as possible. Clearly Antonia seldom put her hand to any housework, and the boys were typical teenagers in that regard.

Today they left Tess outside with James and Lame Wolf, then let themselves into the house. The once tidy kitchen looked particularly chaotic, and neither Antonia nor Tru were anywhere in sight. T'Naisa decided to begin cleaning immediately, and Spock suspected that she found it easier than facing Antonia. Steeling himself, he headed upstairs to check on her. He stopped at Tru's room first, and found the child lying on her bed reading from a padd.

"Mama's in her room," she informed him.

Spock had hoped that Antonia was in the loft. Though it did not seem appropriate for him to disturb Antonia in her bedroom, these were extraordinary circumstances. So he stood at the door and knocked.

"Who's there?" came Antonia's muffled response.

"Spock." He waited in vain for a reply. Finally he said, "Are you well?"

"Oh, just come in," she answered in vexed manner.

Hesitantly he turned the knob and stepped inside. The windows were shuttered and the air smelled stale. Though the day was warm and sunny, Antonia sat in her chair, covered by a blanket. The beautiful, accomplished woman had grown so thin and unkempt that Spock feared for her health.

"We are here," he said, stating the obvious. "Will you be coming downstairs?"

Her eyes moved away from him, and she said, "Do you see that thing?"

He followed her line of vision to a cluttered dresser.

"I want you to take it," she continued. "Get it out of here. I don't want it."

Spock went over to the dresser and among the discarded articles of feminine clothing, a little jeweler's box stood out. Pointing to it, he asked, "This?"

She nodded.

He picked it up, leaving fingerprints in the layer of dust. Lifting the lid, he looked inside. Now he understood. "This is the captain's Medal of Honor. It belongs with you…and with your daughter."

"Take it," she repeated.

It did not seem right to him. Gently he suggested, "Why not put it away? Someday Tru will…" As he spoke, he shut the lid and began lowering it to the dresser.

Suddenly Antonia sprang from her chair, snatched it out of his hand, and rushed into the bathroom. Startled, Spock followed her. He watched Antonia jerk the medal from its bed of black velvet and lift the toilet lid. Realizing her intent, he leaped forward and caught her arm before she could toss the medal into the bowl.

A struggled ensued. Though Antonia fiercely fought him, Spock's superior strength easily prevailed, and he succeeded in wrenching Jim's medal from her determined grip. He was still holding onto her when her head lolled and her body went limp. Taking her into his arms, he carried her over to the unmade bed and arranged her limbs comfortably. Her breathing seemed shallow. Pocketing the medal, he touched the pulse point at her neck. It was probably a common faint, but he wanted her examined by a doctor.

Using his wrist phone, he called for a physician. Now that Antonia was lying flat, she began to come around and overheard the last of Spock's conversation. She rallied with a fresh burst of anger.

"How dare you!" she said, rising on her elbow. "You can just call right back and cancel that; I'm not seeing any doctor!"

"Indeed you will," Spock informed her.

Her dark Latin eyes flashed. "If you bring him in here, I'll tell him you tried to rape me. We both have the marks to prove it."

Even in her present state, Spock would never have expected such a low threat from Antonia Kirk. But he would not be intimidated by her. "The doctor is female and you may tell her anything you wish. However, if it comes down to legal testimony, I doubt you could pass a verifier scan. Really, madam, you are not thinking clearly."

She had the good grace to look ashamed. Tears formed in her eyes. Lying back on her pillow, she turned her head aside.

Spock could not help but feel sorry for her. Quietly he said, "It is a dark, lonely road. I know because I have traveled it. There is only one path that will lead you back into the light."

On her bedside table, he noticed a rosary with blue crystalline beads, dusty and neglected, like so much of the house. It had been a birthday gift from Spock's late wife, Lauren. Remembering those better days, he put it into her hand and left the room.

After the door closed, Antonia clutched the rosary, and the weight of its beads brought a bit of spiritual comfort. Lifting the rosary, she looked at the cross and thought of the pain Mary suffered as she watched her Son die. She thought of the apostle John standing at Mary's side, supporting her through the ordeal. It made her think of the way Spock had been trying to help her. She blushed to think of how badly she had treated him.

Thinking of Mary, of John, of Spock…thinking of someone other than herself, eased a little of the pain inside her. For the first time in a long while she began to think of her daughter Tru…of Lame Wolf…of Jamie. And inevitably of Jim. Their marriage had been a good one, but they had known conflict, too. It was the memory of those conflicts that tore at her—the things that she wished she had done differently, said differently. But Jim had been no saint, either, and with that admission came a bit of relief.

Gripping the rosary, she tried to pray.

While the doctor tended Antonia, Spock waited in the kitchen with T'Naisa. The entire episode in Antonia's bedroom had left him deeply disturbed. Absently he helped unload some clothing from the fresher and became aware that T'Naisa was staring at him.

"You've been bleeding," she said. "There, on the side of your neck."

Spock touched the spot and felt dried blood.

T'Naisa searched his face. "You said she fainted. What else went on up there?"

Jim's medal felt heavy in his pocket. He had not told her about the struggle over it, and could only hope that Antonia would not carry out her threat and cry "rape".

T'Naisa's eyes widened. "Are you blushing?"

Now Spock felt trapped, and it annoyed him. T'Naisa and Antonia were good friends. He could not fully explain what had happened without causing trouble between them, and at a time when Antonia was most in need of friendship.

Abruptly he said, "Please. There is really nothing more that needs to be said."

She looked astonished. She would likely have pressed the issue, had the physician not made an appearance at that moment.

T'Naisa turned her attention on the woman. "Doctor, how is she?"

"Overstressed and underweight, but it will all be over in six months or so."

Spock's heart seemed to stop. "Six months!"

The doctor nodded and turned for the door. "She's up there having herself a good cry. She's been through a lot, hasn't she?"

In her bedroom, Tru heard Mama crying, and she seemed to shrivel up inside. It was a day of strange, frightening sounds. After a while, she heard Spock leave with his family, and the house grew quiet.

Then, light footsteps and a tap at her door. Lame Wolf peeked inside and his dark eyes were dancing. "True Friend," he said, "your mother has something she wants to tell you."

His mood confused her, but she followed him down the hallway to her mother's bedroom. Mama sat in her chair by an open window. A warm mountain breeze stirred the curtains; it smelled like pine trees and green pastures. Mama held out a hand to her and actually _smiled_.

Hope stirred in Tru's heart as she walked over and grasped it. "Mama?" she said.

There were tears in her mother's eyes, but she was still smiling, and it felt as if the sun was on the rise.

"Tru," Mama said, "your father has left us something special. Would you like us to have a baby? A baby from Daddy? Would you like to have a little brother?"

Tru gasped. "A baby! A baby boy?"

"Yes, honey, I'm going to have a baby… _Daddy's_ baby."

With a thrill of joy, Tru hugged and kissed her mother and twirled her way around the room before stopping to hug herself. After capturing the moment, there was only one way to celebrate. Breathless with excitement, she said, "Mama…I want to ride my pony!"

Mama nodded and called after her, "Not too far!"

But Tru was already down the stairs, and in no time at all she had Shiloh saddled, and they were galloping across a meadow.

oooo

The days began to pass more quickly for Tru. Mama got up and returned to her painting, but the pictures were different from before—full of starships and spectacular spacescapes. She said that they sold well, but the best one, the one Mama liked most of all, she gave outright to Spock and T'Naisa. It was a painting of the _Enterprise A_ against a colorful nebula, and Tru knew it was really meant for Uncle Spock—not only because it had been his ship, but because he always showed an interest in Mama's work. T'Naisa said that Spock's human mother had wanted him to appreciate art, and it seemed to Tru that he took his mother's wish very seriously.

Mama put on some weight and became thick around the middle. Now, Spock sometimes came over even without T'Naisa, and Mama invited him into the loft where they talked quietly as he watched her make brushstrokes on a canvas. It Tru interrupted them, Mama shooed her away, and Tru would feel a little angry and left out.

When T'Naisa came along, everyone stayed downstairs, and Tru played with Tess while the adults visited. Tess would be four soon, but was not as smart as she was before. Though her body was getting bigger, her mind mostly lagged far behind.

One day, in front of everyone, Tru asked, "Isn't Tessie ever going to grow up?"

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, and Tru wished that she had kept her mouth shut. She saw a shadow of sadness on T'Naisa's face, but as always, Spock's expression was harder to read.

In a kindly tone he answered, "Of course she will grow up…in her own manner, her own time. Everyone does."

Mama's eyes grew warm and she smiled to herself, just a little.

oooo

Winter arrived, and a layer of snow blanketed the rugged mountains of Idaho. At the ranch, Antonia sat drowsing in a rocking chair by the fire.

The front door banged. "Antonia! Guess what?"

At the sound of Jim's voice, her heart skipped a beat. "What?" she said aloud and opened her eyes.

The room was empty. Her joy faded to a dull ache, but she caught herself before the pain spiraled. She must not dwell on the grief, on the past. There was so much to be thankful for now. Over by the staircase, a pine tree was still decorated from Christmas—a bit lopsided, but how proudly Lame Wolf and Jamie had brought it in from the woods. The paper birds hanging from its branches were Tru originals. She had colored them authentically because, as she put it, "It's Christmas for Daddy, too, and I know he'll see them."

From her chair, Antonia quietly watched the final minutes of the year slip away. Tru was asleep in bed and the boys were busy in the downstairs room they shared. The house still smelled of their dinner with Spock's family. Even T'Beth had been here, with her husband and children. Aaron was fully recovered from his injuries. It had given Antonia a strange feeling to look at him, knowing he had been with Jim aboard the _Enterprise_ , knowing that he had walked away and Jim hadn't.

Resting her head back, she closed her eyes.

A sudden, stabbing discomfort roused her. It was only one of many contractions today, but this one was different. Sharp, urgent, pressing.

She placed her hands on her pregnant belly. Down inside, she felt the baby slip lower—too low—and with the sensation came a gush of warm fluid.

"Duncan!" she cried out, using Lame Wolf's legal name. "Duncan! Jamie!"

The teenagers burst into the living room, their eyes so panicked that she almost laughed. It had been such a long while since she had really laughed.

"Is it time?" Lame Wolf asked breathlessly.

The baby pressed harder. Trying not to push, she nodded. "He's coming. I think he's coming now… _right_ now."

They had planned everything carefully in advance. Jamie, who was seventeen, had acquired his skimmer license. He would fly her into Boise while Lame Wolf watched over Tru and the ranch. But now there was no time for that.

"Call the doctor," she said. "Ask her to come here."

Lame Wolf ran to the phone.

Tru appeared at the top of the stairs in her pajamas, holding her Denevan parrot. "What's going on? It's not midnight yet."

Jamie announced, "The baby's coming!"

Tru let out a whoop, set the parrot on her shoulder, and slid backwards down the banister. The startled bird fluttered over to the Christmas tree and clung precariously to the topmost star.

"Tru…!" Antonia began to scold her, but her voice gave out. No use wasting breath on the child. Tru was back to her old ways, and maybe that was not such a bad thing.

Antonia looked at the long flight of stairs and knew that she would never make it. "Tru, grab the covers off my bed and bring them down here. _Hurry!"_

Tru ran.

oooo

By the time Spock and T'Naisa arrived, all the excitement was over. Jamie had not called them beforehand; he had been too busy helping Antonia until the doctor transported on-scene. Then there was hardly any time at all before the baby was out—a good strong boy who announced himself with a sturdy pair of lungs. "Ready for command," as Antonia put it.

Tess was half asleep as Spock carried her into the house. He settled her on the sofa before venturing upstairs with T'Naisa to see the new arrival. Antonia had declined to go to a hospital. It was well after midnight, and now that the doctor had declared both her and the baby healthy, she wanted nothing more than her own comfortable bed in her own familiar surroundings.

Propped on some pillows, she cradled her newborn son and gazed upon him with a glowing smile.

"Look at him!" Tru exclaimed, and they all did.

Spock was glad for Antonia's sake that the baby favored Jim. Surely he would be a great comfort to her in the coming years. He watched Antonia kiss the baby's downy head.

"Born with the new year," she said before passing him to T'Naisa.

"And his name?" T'Naisa asked, holding him tenderly.

"Like Jim wanted, if ever he had a son. Samuel George…after his brother and his dad."

T'Naisa held out the newborn to Spock, but noting the watchful look in her eyes, he hesitated. These past months he had carefully kept Antonia's threat of a rape charge hidden from T'Naisa, and it was causing a subtle strain between them. In a few minutes he would return to Plum Creek alone. T'Naisa would keep Tess here with her and stay until Antonia recovered from childbirth. Spock had a vague impression that T'Naisa was glad he was leaving, not because she did not want to be with him, but because she did not want him around Antonia and the baby.

Spock accepted the tightly swaddled bundle, and his emotions stirred. _Jim's son._ It was not logical, but as he studied Sam's face, he felt as if Jim was standing very near, even near enough to speak.

Spock listened for his friend's voice, but heard only the gentle breathing of the child.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jim had been gone a year when the dreams came. They always began the same way, with the man at the door. He never knocked or rang the bell, but Antonia knew he was there. He never asked to come in, but her heart longed for him, so she threw the door open.

It was not Jim. She had known all along that it was someone else. Though she burned with shame, the other burning was stronger.

The man looked at her, and her heart pleaded, _Come in! Oh please, please come in!_

The moment he stepped into the house, she usually awakened. But sometimes it went further. Sometimes he touched her tenderly and she touched him.

Tonight when Antonia awakened, she reached for the rosary at her bedside and tried to pray, but even in the midst of prayer, the yearning came over her. It was the beads themselves—the ones he had held before placing them in her unwilling hand. Remembering it now gave her a tormenting pleasure.

Rising, she went over to the crib and checked on Sam. He was nearly six months old, and seldom awakened at night anymore. A big handsome boy, he would grow as tall as his father—maybe even as tall as Spock—but just now he looked like a tousle-haired cherub. Antonia covered him with his teddy bear blanket. Donning her robe and slippers, she left the bedroom, padded up the loft steps, and locked the door behind her.

oooo

Seated in the living room, Spock watched T'Naisa get Tess ready for a trip to the specialist in Boise. With the seminarians on vacation, he would have a rare afternoon to himself.

"There's no reason you can't come along this time," T'Naisa said in a brittle tone that set him on edge.

Though he knew she would not like it, he said, "I am going over to the ranch to see James."

T'Naisa stopped in the act of fastening a small shoe, and looked his way. As her eyes narrowed, Spock sensed the turning of her thoughts, and they did not please him. She missed James deeply, and Sam's birth had only complicated matters. She was growing increasingly frustrated by the congenital infertility that prevented her from having a son of her own—a strong, healthy baby like Sam. She no longer had as much patience with Tess and her special needs. It pained him when she referred to Tess as "your daughter".

But T'Naisa's infertility was not the only problem. Though she had once been good friends with Antonia, there were now times when T'Naisa displayed an active dislike for the grieving widow. She had begun to accuse Spock of spending too much time at the ranch, of showing too much interest in Antonia's art. Yesterday she had asked if he might like her better if _she_ were an artist. Her attitude seemed so petty and unreasonable that Spock sometimes came to their neighbor's defense, which only complicated matters. Worst of all, there was the unfortunate secret that he could not share with his wife, even in their most intimate moments, and there were fewer and fewer of those. If only he could go back and eliminate the day all this trouble began—the day T'Naisa noticed the cut on his neck and later found other marks on his body. The day she began to suspect him.

Now she suddenly said, "You seem so different lately. Are you taking your medicine?"

If the question was meant as an insult, it had the desired effect. His temper rising, he asked, "Why, do I seem deranged?"

With a toss of her red hair, T'Naisa picked up Tess and headed for the door. "Excuse me," she snapped, "but I have to get your daughter to the doctor."

oooo

Antonia had just put Sam down for a nap when she heard the hum of a ground car. Her heart seized. Hurrying to the window, she looked out at the cloudless July day. Spock was on his way to the porch.

She made herself walk down the stairs slowly, pausing once to look at the portrait of Jim on horseback that hung over the mantel. Jim had loved Spock, too. She had been working hard to convince herself that he would understand and perhaps even approve of her feelings for the half-Vulcan. She remembered how Jim had pressured her to make love in the days before they married, but she had made him wait. Now, she sometimes wondered if that had been the right thing, after all. Life was so brief…so uncertain.

There was a knocking at the door. By the time she opened it, Spock had turned away to gaze across the yard, as if he might go looking for someone there. Now, wearing his perpetual long sleeves despite the summer heat, he turned toward her. One slanted brow lifted and his eyes seemed to warm.

"Well, hello!" she said, her pulse racing as she smiled brightly.

"I know you were not expecting me," he began, "but I thought that perhaps James…"

 _Surely he had called his son and knew exactly where Jamie would be._

"You're always welcome," she told him, playing along, "but Jamie's gone. He's out riding with Tru and Lame Wolf…" And she added, "They won't be back for a couple of hours. It's just Sam and me, and he's napping."

Spock's gaze remained absolutely steady.

With an effort, Antonia tore her eyes from his. "I…I was just about to paint. Would you like to come watch?"

"Indeed, yes," he said, and before she could move out of his way, he stepped nearer. It was the closest they had been since the day he wrested Jim's medal from her hand. She briefly wondered what he had done with it, before her mind returned to other matters.

Taking pleasure in his nearness, she preceded him upstairs and into the loft. As always it was peaceful there, softly lit for the moment, a world all its own. But there was no peace in Antonia's heart. Her painting, which had always been like a form of prayer, had become an exercise in self-indulgence. And today she would share this new way of painting with Spock—for the first time, share it fully.

A storm raged inside her as she watched him close the door. She waited hopefully to see if he would engage the lock, but of course he didn't. He had been raised as a Vulcan, with all the constraints of that disciplined race. He would wait until he was sure of what she wanted.

Over and over his words played in her memory. _Try to remember, you are not alone. There is one who…_ She had not given him a chance to finish. She had thought he was talking about God. But might he have said… _one who cares deeply for you,_ meaning himself?

The long, sleepless nights had taken their toll on her, and Spock's kindly attention made it seem certain that he had feelings for her. An image of T'Naisa flashed through her mind, but if the halfling was not woman enough to hold onto her husband…

Spock stood in the quiet of the loft, waiting for Antonia to go to her easel. As she continued to gaze at him, something in the depths of her dark eyes made him so uneasy that he considered making some excuse and leaving.

Then she gestured toward the storage closet and said, "There are some canvasses I want you to see."

Not waiting for his response, she crossed the loft and unlocked the storage room door. Holding the door open, she said, "I do them at night…when I can't sleep. You see, I have dreams."

Spock wondered why she locked them away. Curiosity drew him, and he stepped inside the room with her. Three portraits lined the walls, each portraying him in a state of partial undress. An easel held a fourth in which he was holding an equally bare Antonia in an intimate embrace. His eyes widened, his lips parted, and for a long moment he stared at them in utter shock.

Antonia closed the door and he heard the sound of a locking mechanism. Her voice came hesitantly as she asked, "Do you…like them?"

He forced himself to turn. With large, luminous eyes, she came closer and his stomach tightened as she brought her hand up and touched her fingers to his face. The intensity of her desire beat at his mental barriers.

"Spock, I love you," she said softly. "Oh, how I love you…and I can't hold it back anymore…"

Shaken to his depths, he began to step away from her, but in the enclosed space her arms went around him. As she pressed her body against his, he experienced a pain that was almost physical.

"…Antonia," his voice grated. Gently but firmly he gripped her upper arms and freed himself from her embrace. "Antonia, no. I'm sorry…but I cannot…I do not think of you in that way. My heart is bonded…"

Stricken, she stared at him, tears forming.

Suddenly Tru's voice sounded on the stairs. "Mama! Mama! Where are you?"

A door banged and the child could be heard running around the loft. Her steps came closer and the closet's door latch rattled as she tried it.

Ashamed for both their sakes, Spock said, "Go to her".

Wordlessly Antonia opened the door and slipped out, leaving him behind. He heard Tru saying, "Where are T'Naisa and Spock? Their car's out front. Where's Tess? Why was the door locked?"

"N…never mind," Antonia stammered. "Spock…came by himself. He…he's in there looking at some paintings."

The conversation moved downstairs.

Standing among the sensual renderings, Spock saw the situation clearly for the first time in months. He could no longer blame T'Naisa for all the problems in their marriage. She had been right to question him. Today, as on so many other days, he had behaved unwisely. Antonia was a lonely, vulnerable human. She had misinterpreted his overtures of friendship, and now that she had acted on her feelings, his rejection had wounded her. He could only hope that the repercussions did not tear both his and Antonia's families apart.

He could still hear them talking in the living room. James and Lame Wolf joined in the commotion, and they all moved outdoors. Spock knew that he must make an appearance. Steeling himself, he left the loft, walked down the stairs, and went out on the porch. His gut twisted as he glanced at Antonia, but she kept her eyes elsewhere. Her brown skin would save her the embarrassment of a blush, but he was not so fortunate. His face burned as he turned his gaze upon the young people in the yard. They had captured a fawn.

"Father!" James said with excitement. "Look what we found! Its mother had died. The poor little fellow was just standing there next to her."

The creature shivered with fear as Tru lavished it with caresses. Spock felt sorry for it.

Half-turning to Antonia, he said, "I must take my leave."

She was silent. With the children crowded around the fawn, no one paid Spock any attention as he got into his groundcar and sped off.

oooo

T'Naisa noticed a pronounced change in her husband, and his pained, somber expression frightened her as much as the disturbance she sensed in their bond. After two miserable weeks of suspicion, she had to speak up. As casually as possible, she said, "I notice that you've stopped going to the ranch. Do you have any idea why Antonia isn't returning my phone calls? Has she gone somewhere?"

Inwardly cringing, Spock replied, "How would I know such a thing? As you said, I haven't been there. Ask James."

It was all that he could tell her. Their marriage had become sullied by dark secrets. First Antonia's low threat, and now the wretched interlude in the storage room. He did his best to wall off those memories, but guilt festered in him. Given the opportunity, he would have done many things differently. Antonia had been T'Naisa's closest friend. Now, for T'Naisa's sake, for the sake of both families, he must keep silent.

oooo

More and more, T'Naisa felt as if a stranger lay beside her in bed. Though Spock tried hard to cloak his emotional conflict, she sensed it and drew her own sickening conclusion. One night she sat up in the shadows, her heart pounding as if it might break. Spock was lying on his back, wide awake.

Looking down at him, she asked, "Do you think Antonia will ever remarry?"

Without meeting her eyes, he said, "She might."

T'Naisa forced her voice steady. This was it. "Do you expect me to release you?"

For a moment he seemed to stop breathing. She had his full attention now. In a cautious tone he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, please!" she exploded. "You know exactly what I mean! I've seen the way she looks at you, and you've been acting like a lovestruck Romeo. Well, I'm sorry, but I won't release you—the Shiav forbids adultery."

He threw back the covers and left the bed. She waited for his angry declaration of innocence. Instead, he just looked aside, and it was as if he had stabbed her with a knife.

Choking on her tears, she said, "That time on Vulcan…when the bomb went off…it would have been kinder if you let me die."

"Don't say that," he declared.

There was a time when he would have taken her into his arms. He would have opened himself to her, so that she would be convinced of his love. Now he just stood there, staring off into empty space.

She could no longer hold back the tears. As she wept, he turned on a small light, quickly dressed, and threw a few items into his valise. He was leaving her, then—running out on Tess, too, and the Yanashites—heading over to the ranch where Antonia was waiting. _Jim's wife! T'Naisa own friend!_ The whole thing was sordid and disgusting.

He picked up his valise and informed her, "I'll be in Phoenix for a time."

Startled, she said, "Phoenix? Not the ranch?"

He gave no answer as he headed for the door.

"What about Tess?" she asked him. "What should I tell your daughter?"

He wheeled, clearly angry now. _"My_ daughter! Why do you persist in calling her that? Is she not your daughter, as well?"

He opened the bedroom door and as he walked away, she wondered if she would ever see him again.

oooo

The dream had changed. Just as before, there was someone at Antonia's door, but instead of opening it, she only peeked out the window. Under the porch light, she see the shape of a man, and he was not alone. Her heart seized as she recognized Jim. His arms were around Spock's wife and they were kissing passionately. Oh, how she wanted to cry out. She wanted to stop them, but she dared not open the door because she was naked and ashamed.

The dream had become a nightmare.

Abruptly she awakened, but the sense of shame lingered. In the dream, she had felt betrayed by Jim and T'Naisa, but in reality she was the one who had betrayed them…and Spock's friendship. Overwhelmed with guilt, she threw on a robe and tiptoed past Sam, up the attic steps, into the loft. She picked up her palette, selected a broad brush and a large tube of paint, and then unlocked the storage room. She bitterly regretted confronting Spock with her feelings, but there was no way to erase what had happened here. Jamie said that his father had left Plum Creek. Some sort of business in Phoenix, Yanashite business, he assumed. Antonia knew better. What had she done to Spock, to T'Naisa, to his entire family?

Tears spilled from her eyes as she studied the provocative paintings. Squeezing a thick dollop of white onto her palette, she thinned it a bit, coated her brush, and slapped it over the first portrait. Stroke by stroke, the object of her desire disappeared beneath a glistening layer of paint. Soon every canvas was covered, and when she returned to her bed, she made certain that the storage door remained open. The room needed a good airing.

oooo

It had been Spock's intention to go straight to Phoenix and unburden himself to the Temple Master. But disclosing a problem of a sexual nature—a delicate situation involving a wife and a human female—would be particularly embarrassing, so he postponed the confession. Instead, he traveled to Flagstaff, where his friend Leo Kessler welcomed him. Leo was a simple, earthy man. Had he known of Spock's trouble, he would likely have slapped him on the back and laughed about it. For that reason, Spock kept silent on the subject, but a few days with the former convict would refresh him before moving on.

oooo

A warm summer breeze ruffled Sam's fair curls as he clutched the side of his playpen and cried in protest. He was not content to stay on the porch while Tru had free run of the yard.

"Hush," Antonia told him from the porch steps, where she was watching Tru and the fawn.

Using a handful of oats, Tru coaxed her new pet closer to the porch. "Sam, look!" she said, laughing as the soft, moist muzzle tickled her palm.

Watching intently, Sam quieted.

It had not taken long for Tru to win the fawn's confidence. The little deer followed her everywhere. Antonia wished she could share her daughter's delight, but the nagging sense of embarrassment and fear of exposure made it impossible to enjoy anything. Occasionally she brought her easel outdoors and did some painting, but she avoided the loft with its painful memories. As for her friend T'Naisa—well, there was no longer any need to avoid her, for the halfling had stopped calling altogether. Antonia wondered how much T'Naisa knew. It hurt to think of her former friend alone with a mentally disabled child and a small seminary to run. After all the help T'Naisa had given her, Antonia dared not lift a finger to help her. Like a backstabbing coward, she hid here, too scared to show her face at Plum Creek.

Down on the road she heard a sound, and her heart seized. Someone was coming! T'Naisa? Had she found out? Or could it be… _him?_

A wheezing little groundcar glided into the yard, and she sighed in relief.

"Father O'Day!" cried Tru as she skipped over to the gray-haired priest from Pinehaven. By the time he was out of the car, she had told him the entire story of the fawn's rescue. Tru proudly stroked the little deer. "He's mine, now. See? He really likes me."

Smiling warmly, the priest leaned over for a closer look. "Oh, my—isn't that wonderful, now."

Antonia rose, and as Father O'Day walked to the porch, something inside her shrank like a guilty child.

"Antonia," he said. "I was just passing by, and thought I'd stop in and see how you're doing." His kindly gaze passed to Sam and his smile widened. "A fine boy. Before you know it, he'll be ready to serve Mass." He might have mentioned the fact that even though Jamie brought Tru to Mass, Antonia had not attended in some time. But he merely said, "And how are the lads doing with the ranch?"

"They're doing a great job, better than I would have believed possible. After expenses, I share the income from the horses with them equally, three ways." It sounded as if she was boasting about her virtuous generosity, and her cheeks warmed.

"Good of you," the priest said with a nod. He glanced over toward the woods. "Such a beautiful day. I wouldn't mind stretching my legs on one of those trails of yours. Might you come along? We can catch up on the news."

Antonia froze. "Oh, Father, it sounds nice, but I don't dare leave Sam."

Tru was near enough to be listening. "I'll watch him," she called out. "I've watched him before when you've done things. And besides, Lame Wolf and Jamie are right over in the stable."

"Then it's settled," the priest said happily.

There was no choice but to accompany him. They had not gone very far down the trail when he dropped the pleasantries and got to the point. "Antonia, you seem rather…downhearted. Are you still pining for Jim?"

She stopped in the woodland shade and sighed deeply.

"What is it, dear?" he asked so kindly that it seemed like the voice of God Himself.

Antonia had set her feet on the wrong path. She had disrupted her own life and the lives of others. Suddenly, with all her soul, she longed for peace and reconciliation. Breaking into tears, she said, "Oh Father…I've done something terrible…"

"Is it as bad as all of that?" He gestured toward an old log. "Come, we can sit down over here and have a good talk."

As they headed over, he brought out a long purple stole, kissed the symbol of his priestly office, and draped it over his neck.

oooo

Not long ago, Aaron Pascal had contacted Spock about someone Aaron wanted him to meet. Now that Spock had arrived in Phoenix, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. After a visit to Starfleet Medical Center, he went over to Research and Development, and was admitted to the Chief's office.

Aaron smiled and rose from his desk. _"There_ you are! Better call your wife. T'Naisa can't seem to figure out what's become of you."

"Is that so?" Spock repressed a twinge of irritation. "Well, you may tell her that I am really here in Phoenix…and yes, I am taking my medication. In fact, I have just come from Doctor McCoy's office."

Aaron's smile vanished. "Spock, I have no idea what's going on, but…"

For that, Spock was most grateful. He had not come to discuss his personal life with his son-in-law. "Last month, you mentioned a person—someone of interest you would like me to meet."

Aaron settled back into his chair. "Oh…yes. A very interesting case." He jotted a few lines on a piece of paper and held it out to him. "This is where she's been staying. She's expecting you."

"She?" Spock hesitated before accepting the paper. "You say that this woman is expecting me?"

"Believe me, she'll know you are coming. Guinan is…quite unusual."

"A clairvoyant?"

Aaron shrugged. "Who knows? It seemed as if she was transported off the _Liku_ before the energy ribbon destroyed it, but she has a different story. I first met her in the _Enterprise_ sickbay. Later, she came to me with an extraordinary tale."

Spock scarcely glanced at the hotel address. After leaving Aaron's office, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the first disposal bin that he passed. _A mysterious clairvoyant!_ Spock had expected more from a man of Aaron's intellect, and beyond that, he had already learned a hard lesson. He was not about to spend time alone with any woman but his wife.

oooo

Though Spock's curriculum was meticulously organized, T'Naisa was not qualified to carry out all of his lesson plans, but the two seminarians did not seem to mind her educational shortcomings. They clearly enjoyed keeping Tess amused as T'Naisa stood at the head of their classroom, discussing Vulcan scriptures and giving firsthand accounts of her days with Yanash.

Now another morning was dawning, and with the sun barely above the trees, she sat listening to music. If Spock was in Phoenix, he had not contacted any of their acquaintances. If only Simon or T'Beth would call and say, "Father's here now." If only she could be sure that he was coming home to her, and not to Antonia. If only she knew what was in his heart.

She failed to notice someone tapping on the cabin door until Tess pointed and cried out, "Dada! Dada!"

T'Naisa held her breath until she remembered that Spock would not have bothered to knock. Turning off the music, she went over and opened the door, expecting to find a seminarian.

Antonia Kirk stood on the porch. Inwardly roiling, T'Naisa glared at her.

As Antonia blinked, two tears rolled down her cheeks. Softly she said, "May I come in?"

T'Naisa felt like slamming the door in her face, but with an effort she stepped aside and Tess rushed forward to greet her beloved "Aunt Toni".

In a quavering voice Antonia said, "We need to talk. I have to find out what you know…about Spock…about your husband and me."

T'Naisa's anger built. "Where is he? At the ranch?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea. Has he said anything? Anything about us?"

T'Naisa stared at her former friend and in that moment hated her almost as much as she hated Spock. "He didn't have to say it. I could tell something was going on."

"No, listen…" Antonia clutched at her arm. "That day…the last time he came over…I…I told him that I loved him."

A sob escaped her, and Tessie's lip quivered in sympathy, but T'Naisa felt nothing but outrage as she shook off her touch. "You—my own friend!"

Antonia's head bowed. Nodding, she said, "It was wrong…he's your husband…and I'm so sorry."

T'Naisa threw up her arms. "Why are you telling me this? He's yours now, isn't he?"

Antonia's anguished eyes rose. "He's _not_ mine and he told me so! But he hasn't told you, has he? He didn't want you to find out what I did…but you need to know the truth…you need to know that nothing happened. T'Naisa, please believe me—he loves _you."_

Across the room, the phone chimed and cycled into the message mode. T'Beth's voice said, "Aaron called. Father just left his office…"

oooo

Carrying his valise, Spock left Starbase Phoenix on foot and headed down the street, in no hurry to reach the Yanashite temple complex. He was growing hungry when he noticed a restaurant advertising some Vulcan items on its menu. It was not surprising. The new temple had brought even more Vulcans to the Phoenix area, and many businesses were competing for their credits.

He went inside and found an authentically decorated "Yatara Solarium" that amplified the sun's heat for customers. A Vulcan instrumental played softly as he ate a remarkably good entrée, and for a few moments the simple physical pleasures helped distract him from his personal difficulties.

He was nearing the end of his meal when a woman crossed the solarium, walked up to his table, and seated herself directly across from him. The rude, intrusive behavior left Spock momentarily speechless. Setting down his fork, he studied the dark-skinned, strangely clothed stranger. A peculiar sort of headgear covered her hair entirely, and oddest of all was the way she looked at him—smiling almost playfully, as if she knew him well and enjoyed surprising him in this way.

Spock was quite sure that he did not know her. He had faithfully taken his medication, but on the chance that he was suffering some fleeting lapse of memory, he said, "Pardon me…should I recognize you?"

"Oh, we've never met," she replied with that same knowing smile. It was beginning to annoy him. Then she added, "But we do have a mutual friend."

Now it was becoming clear. "Aaron Pascal?"

"With that cute little beard. He's married to your daughter, isn't he?" She did not wait for a response. "Marriage is a wonderful thing…"

Spock went rigid. Perhaps the comment was a mere coincidence, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that this peculiar person was reading his mind. No, something more. She was reading his _life_ , and he did not like it. Even as he strengthened his mental shields, it seemed a useless exercise. Whoever this woman was—this Guinan—she had an uncanny power of perception.

A server came to the table, and Guinan ordered a dish of chocolate ice cream.

After the server left, Guinan fanned the air with her hand. "Whew! Hot in here!"

Spock considered leaving, but he suspected that she would follow him. If he let the persistent woman have her say, perhaps he would be rid of her.

"Alright," he said, "you have my attention."

Her perpetual smile widened a bit, then faded. Her dark eyes conveyed deep sympathy. "I know this will be of personal interest. You may not believe it. You may not want to believe it, but it's the truth."

The server delivered the ice cream. Guinan took a bite, then set down her spoon. Spock waited, uncomfortable with the situation, yet growing curious to know what nonsense she would tell him.

The dark eyes rose to meet his and she said, "Your friend James Kirk isn't dead. Neither are the others who disappeared into the energy ribbon."

Spock's brow rose. Settling back in his chair, he looked at her with suspicion.

She went on. "He's inside the Nexus. I know; I've been there, myself. It gathers you in and gives you everything you've ever dreamed of. Once you're inside, you never want to leave."

They sat in silence while Guinan ate her ice cream. She was correct in one regard. Spock did not want to believe her. It was one thing to acknowledge that Jim was dead, but quite another to think of him trapped in some beguiling energy Nexus writhing its way across the galaxy.

He asked, "What do you want from me?"

"Starfleet already knows the Nexus is dangerous; it destroys everything it touches. I thought scientific minds would appreciate information from someone who's been inside it. But let's just say…they have not embraced me with open arms. Aside from Aaron Pascal, they seem very happy when I leave their offices."

"You've made a fantastic assertion," Spock said in their defense. "Have you proof?"

"Proof?" She chuckled. "There are no stamps on my passport, if that's what you mean."

Spock did not understand the reference.

She said, "You're a trained scientist…an astrophysicist. Captain Kirk is your personal friend."

Her use of the present tense in regard to Kirk was unsettling. "What would you have me do? I _am_ a scientist, but I presently have other responsibilities, and am in no position to…"

"Oh, excuse me." Guinan's voice dripped sarcasm. "Responsibilities. To your family at Plum Creek? To the seminarians? Or maybe to Captain Kirk's wife? Uh-huh."

Spock's temper stirred. In the time it took him to stand up, he had traced the line of gossip from this strange woman, through Aaron and T'Beth, all the way back to T'Naisa. "You seem to know a great deal about me. What else did Aaron tell you?"

"Him? He only said that you are an honorable man, but I already knew that." Unruffled, she said, "I do seem to know a great deal, don't I? Is that the proof you need? Are you willing to consider that maybe…just maybe…I might know something about the Nexus, too?"

He was finished with her.

As he picked up his valise and turned to leave, Guinan said, "You're going to get awfully wet."

Spock glanced back over his shoulder.

"In the rain," she said.

Sunlight streamed into the solarium. Spock went out on the street and studied the sky. A single cloud drifted harmlessly in the blue expanse. The woman might be perceptive, but she was no meteorologist. Relieved to be rid of her, he set out walking.

 _Jim alive!_ Though the notion seemed absurd, he thought back to the day Jim disappeared from the damaged Engineering section of the _Enterprise_. He had wondered then why he had not sensed his friend dying. For a long time he had questioned it before setting the issue aside as irrelevant. After all, the evidence was clear. Jim was gone.

Spock was three blocks from Phoenix Temple when the sun dimmed. He scarcely noticed and kept walking until the first raindrops spattered him. Roused from his thoughts, he looked up and found a large, leaden cloud overhead. Then the cloud opened and rain came down in sheets.

He ran the final distance to the temple grounds and rang the door chime of the priests' residence. His son Simon opened the door, and overcoming some momentary surprise, offered the use of a bathroom where Spock toweled himself off and changed into dry clothes.

 _Guinan._ Who was she? How did she come by her knowledge? If what she said about the Nexus was true…if Jim _was_ still alive…what would it mean for Antonia? Despite everything, Spock still felt sympathetic toward Jim's wife. Obviously she was a lonely woman, but he could not believe that she would develop passionate feelings toward him without having received some encouragement on his part, however unwitting. He had fallen into the foolish belief that they could simply be friends. He had not respected T'Naisa's sensitivities, and at what price? His marriage lay in ruins.

Spock could no longer put off the central purpose of his trip. He had come to seek the Forgiving Touch from the Temple Master, hoping to find a measure of peace and perhaps gain some insight into his situation. Yosak received him in his wood-paneled office, where Spock dropped to his knees and uttered the sacramental formula, "I will confess."

It would not be the first time Spock had confessed to Yosak, yet it was never easy for him. Technically there was nothing to fear. A good priest was not judgmental toward a penitent; he listened, he advised, and he absolved in the name of Yanash. Even so, Spock felt his heart pound as he awaited the touch of Yosak's fingers on his damp hair.

Instead, Yosak said, "Please stand up."

Confused, Spock looked at him and rose.

With a courteous bow, Yosak said, "If you will excuse me, there is matter that needs tending first."

After the Temple Master left the room, Spock clasped his hands behind his back and wandered over to a window. It had stopped raining, and the wet courtyard glistened as the sun returned. He wondered what the weather was like in Idaho. He dreaded the thought of returning to Plum Creek, of facing T'Naisa and her suspicions.

Behind him, the door opened. He turned, expecting to find Yosak, but it was T'Naisa who entered the room.

Spock's hands went to his sides. The sudden appearance of his wife was unsettling. In better days, he would have sensed her nearness through the bond they shared, but now all his energy went into blocking that connection.

Thinking of his recent encounter with Guinan, he stiffly said, "In a restaurant, I just met a person who seems to know quite a bit about our difficulties. You do love to talk…"

"I haven't told a soul," she asserted, and since her conversion Spock had never known her to lie.

 _So Guinan_ _had_ _been reading him. What manner of being was she?_

Silently T'Naisa moved closer, her eyes never leaving his face. They brimmed with a depth of emotion that made her exquisitely beautiful and deepened his sense of guilt.

Standing before him, she said, "I'm afraid I've made a mess out of your curriculum."

 _His curriculum._ As if such a thing mattered at a moment like this, when their marriage hung in the balance. If only he could respond to her as she wished, but nothing had changed. He dared not reveal what was in his heart, without wounding both her and Antonia.

Frustrated by the continuing dilemma, he said, "I am grateful for your efforts. It was thoughtless of me to leave without first making some provisions." He glanced at the door. "Is Tess here?"

T'Naisa looked into his eyes. "No. I left her with Antonia."

 _Antonia?_ The name brought a further tightening in his chest.

Quietly T'Naisa spoke again. "I know what happened in the loft. Antonia told me it was all her fault, and I believe her. She told me that you refused her advances."

A fierce wave of relief swept over him. He had never thought that Antonia would come forward with the truth. He had underestimated her…and it would seem that he had underestimated T'Naisa, as well. Yet he did not hold himself entirely blameless.

"Perhaps," he said, "I have identified too deeply with Antonia's loss. And while displaying an interest in her art, I did not properly consider her emotional state."

"Yes," T'Naisa agreed with a wry touch of humor. "I know your mother wanted you to appreciate art, but this time you carried it a bit too far."

Spock nodded. "Agreed. And there is something more I must say." Drawing a breath, he told her about last year's incident in Antonia's bedroom and why he had hidden it for so long.

"To think I was jealous of poor Antonia," she responded. "I should have been thankful you weren't on the _Enterprise_ that day. You would have gone with Jim, I just know it. I should have been content with our lives. I should have trusted you completely." Touching her fingers to his face, she softly said, "Won't you come home? Oh, how I miss you…and so does our daughter."

oooo

Back in Idaho, Spock and T'Naisa went to the Kirk ranch together.

Tess opened the door, and seeing him, stretched out her arms and jumped with excitement. "Dada! Look, see Dada!"

She had actually strung three words into a sentence. Spock lifted her into his arms, and as she delivered a shower of moist kisses, he turned and found Antonia standing in the living room with downcast eyes.

"Thank you," he told her, and they both knew that he was referring to something more than childcare.

With his free hand, he reached into a pocket and brought out a small jeweler's box.

"Pwesent!" Tess exclaimed. "Mine!"

"No, Tess," T'Naisa told her. "It belongs to your Aunt Toni."

After much thought, Spock had reached a decision. Setting Captain Kirk's medal on a table, he said to Antonia, "Perhaps, someday, you can hand it to Jim."

Her eyes rose in confusion.

Briefly Spock related the story of his encounter with the strange woman named Guinan. And he said, "My influence with Starfleet is limited, but I intend to put my weight behind Aaron and push for further study of the Nexus."

Antonia's face took on a pained, faraway look. "The Nexus. Oh, do you actually think…"

"I do not know what to think," he answered truthfully.

She turned toward the fireplace, and as her gaze settled on the painting of Jim above the mantel, Spock chose that moment to slip out the door with his family.

oooOOooo


End file.
